Page 3 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“I know exactly what you mean.”)

Talula began prepping vegan cocoa ingredients when she had an idea. She nipped through the Employees Only door and walked past the shelves of standard café supplies to her secret pantry. Talula darted a look over her shoulder, satisfied that her guests couldn’t see her. Taking a breath, she grabbed the handle and pulled.

A few minutes later, Talula set down a tray holding three red mugs, three teal mugs, and three glasses of water.

“Did you make us a cocoa flight?” Dahlia guessed gleefully.

“You didn’t have to do all of this.” Mina shook her head, but her dark eyes were wide with delight.

“It was no big deal.” Talula sat down on the edge of the large coffee table. “The red mugs are the oat milk versions of my normal cocoa recipe.” She pointed at the teal mugs on the right. “These are autumn cocoas with coconut milk and homemade cardamom-and-ginger-infused maple syrup. The topping is coconut cream and cinnamon.”

“You happened to have homemade cardamom-and-ginger-infused maple syrup in the fridge?” Dahlia asked, incredulous.

“Yup, just hanging out in the fridge.” Talula shrugged, crossing her fingers under her apron.

It wasn’t really a lie. She’d made the syrup herself. But instead of a fridge, Talula stored her ingredients in a pocket dimension where time stood still and gravity was a little unreliable. However, it was very fridge-like in that it was temperature-controlled and stuffed with food.

Mina took an experimental sniff. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stop talking about the cocoa and start drinking it.”

“We’ll start with the vegan originals,” Dahlia declared, reaching for a red mug. Talula grabbed a mug for herself and took a sip. Velvety dark chocolate, a hint of salt, and subtle notes of vanilla—yes, this was her cocoa, but vegan-ified.

“It tastes almost the same,” Dahlia said, impressed.

“Jesus Christ, Mary, Joseph, and fourteen camels, that’s good,” Mina groaned.

“I want to try the fancy one now.” Dahlia reached for a teal mug.

“Try a quick palate cleanse.” Talula picked up a glass of water, offering it to Dahlia. She realized how pretentious she’d sounded. “Or not! No pressure—”

“Whatever you say, chef.” Dahlia’s dimples deepened as she reached for the water in Talula’s hand. When their fingers brushed, Talula’s cheeks heated. Then they all sipped from the teal mugs. Talula smiled triumphantly into her mug—the autumn flavors were warm and playful, complementing the cocoa without feeling too been-there-done-that pumpkin spice-y.

“Moses eating a BLT, I’m in love.” Mina slumped into the sofa, cradling the mug to her chest.

“It’s so perfect for fall! This cocoa needs to go on the menu,” Dahlia demanded.

“What has to go on the menu?” came a low, melodious voice from the café’s entrance.

The woman who’d entered the café was tall, but not tall like a model. Tall like a statue. Tall like a temple. Tall like a tidal wave. Her black hair cascaded in waves, covered lightly by a diaphanous silvery veil. Her deep eyes shone from a face as serene and lovely as a saint’s. But her posture, the set of her chin, the way she seemed to leave the room airless, all screamed one thing—power. The woman’s face could certainly launch a thousand ships, but she could just as easily sink them with the effort it took to twirl a lock of her silky hair.

Dahlia gasped at the woman, then choked a little on her cocoa. Mina stood up with shocking awkwardness, started to curtsy, then changed her mind halfway through and gave a clumsy bow.

Talula smiled nervously. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, dear—it seems we have our hands full with guests,” Talula’s mother noted, nodding regally at Mina and Dahlia. “I got your message. Did you need raspberry syrup?”

Talula blinked. It seemed like forever ago that she’d sent out the emergency text. But Mina was here for a reason. One that didn’t include an elaborate cocoa tasting.

A bit wistful, Talula nodded. “Mom, this is Mina.”

Talula’s mother waved a hand at Dahlia. “Sorry, young lady, but this next part isn’t for mortal eyes.” The effect of the casting was immediate. Dahlia’s eyes glazed over, her body going still. Talula’s mom turned her piercing gaze to the vampire. “Mina.”

“Yes, ma’am?” Mina squeaked, very un-vampirelike.

“I’m Sara, guardian of this way station. If you’re ready, I’ll take you to the Volta. But once you’ve crossed its threshold, there is no going back.”

Meanwhile, Dahlia was still frozen in place and enchanted into obliviousness, drool dribbling from the corner of her lip.

Mina drew herself up. “I’m ready, High Priestess.”